Walking into the chemo unit was when it hit me first. I’ve actually got breast cancer and bugger me – that is why I am here. Breast Cancer. Me? WTAF? It’s not that I ever forget I have – you’ve read that here. It’s just, I have felt so OK – bouncing around the place, getting on with my life as close to normal as I can find. And here is the BIGGEST reminder I will always have – that I am here because I have cancer. But I don’t feel ill or look ill. Plus, I am on my own again. Just me and my fear. I wish my husband was with me. I really miss him at times like these.
It’s busier today – my eyes do their inventory around the unit looking who is there. Lots of older people – all with hair. It’s their own – I can tell. I am getting very deft at spotting natural partings! I feel so out of place. I find a seat and wait for the descent of kind nurses ready to crack on with the next patient. They don’t take long …… lovely, warm nurses greet me with smiles and compassion. Oh I do not know how they do this job every day. Dealing with cancer, poorly people, people who will die, people who will recover. I’m just a passing guest – I could never surround myself so close to cancer like they do.
And there in follows anxiety and agitation. I’m finding myself talking very fast and I’m restless as I have my obs taken and I just come out and tell the nurse how I am feeling. She said she had noticed and encouraged me with taking deep breaths in and out until I regain some control of my composition. I go through these physical motions, but mentally I grapple to understand why I am reacting like this. I know what to expect now – I know why I am here so why are mind and body in unison trying to side swipe me?
It takes me about 10 more minutes to process this.
It’s my body’s reaction to my minds resistance that I am not ill. The heaviness of this connection weighs so heavy on me. I’m decimated. Mad at myself – I didn’t mentally prepare for this day as I did the first time. I want to walk out. Oh my God. I want to walk out. If I do I stay well. OK – bald – but well. The tumour is tiny now so what is the bloody point of this? Another realization. I cannot control my life and what is happening to it right now. I had control yesterday – and the day before. I chose to work, run, clean, shop and speak to my close friends.
Cancer and it’s enemy chemo have once again robbed me of what I need to survive and function as Heidi Lester. I support my clients by enabling them to develop greater agency to help them make important life decisions and feel less overwhelmed, stuck and lost.
Now I feel stuck, adrift and thwarted.
The only choice I have right now is to walk. But as the grip in my mind starts to loosen on this thought, I find myself in another place in my head. I can choose to accept what is about to happen again, embrace the bigger picture and visualize myself well, happy, healthy and at the other side of this treacherous life-changing journey.
After my false start this morning, I gather my thoughts, compose myself and drop my shoulders into the chair, and go with the latter.
As the needle goes in, it stings like hell. Not what happened last time. I cry out. It doesn’t settle down and the I feel the salt water rush through me – I swear I can feel every grain surge down my plump warmed up veins and dart into my arm. The nurse who is administering this to me waits and smiles. This is really unpleasant and may be touching a nerve or a valve I’m told. Five minutes pass – the saline is washed through and still the sensation remains. We agree to remove and have another attempt at another vein. Instant relief when the cannula is removed.
I am actually thinking someone was looking out for me today….
As now the lovely nurse checks to see see that I have remembered to take the Akynzeo tablet an hour before the chemotherapy. (This is an absolute MUST to help with the sickness). I hadn’t. I was not given one last time I was here or told to take it an hour before as instructed. I had taken other anti-sickness and steroids an hour before my arrival – but this my dear friends is the Godfather. AAAhh. That could have ended very badly for me. It’s this one I need that does the most work – as you know I am terrified of actually vomiting. It is not usually given unless you are very sick, but after my discussion with the Oncologist a few weeks ago I was prescribed them. Yes I know some of this is mind over matter – if I know I have the strongest anti-sickness meds I will believe I won’t be sick. But the belief in your treatment working is critical to your mental health and well being.
So I have to wait 45 minutes for the medicine to be absorbed. Another cup of tea arrives and although I am grumpy at not being half way through my chemo and half way to getting home again, I am instantly revived when the lovely lady I met three weeks ago bounces in and we start talking. She has a lovely aura and positivity around her – so I silently pinch a bit of that! It’s like a cancer Q&A…… we chat periods, shielding, menopause, wigs, chemo and everything in-between those chapters. Trust me here – yes talk to your most awesome army of friends and family – they will be your scaffold – but NOTHING beats talking to someone who is where you are – doing what you have to do to get your body and your life back. Cancer is like glue – you can stick to people you would have never met usually and they (in my experience so far) are your biggest assets. Plus, I do want to come through this with new friends in my life. New friends who came to me and me to them through this osmosis effect – and when the cancer leaves we will stay behind with each other and share the past and relish the future. And after chatting away like a couple of song birds, we realize I work with her husband. Small world!
The chemo goes in and I’m laden down with my plastic bag of meds and an instruction list. I’m not anxious anymore. I don’t really know how to describe how I am feeling.
A few people commented how I’m getting on with my hair loss. When I tell them I am wearing a wig they look totally shocked! “You looked like that last time you were here!” “Can I touch it?”, “It’s unreal”!! Thank you xx Validation is always welcome on cancer planet ladies…….